DYLAN EVERETT
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We watch the doorway, we see nothing within
the room, but know they are still inside.
(Dylan Everett)
As the fields begin on both sides; behind the
wire fences and the strips of dirt, the yellow of them. Mountains,
rise up in the distance, to be the sea. Pushed into one another the
flowers stretch like the skin. The rest of the landscape nothing and
shrunken;one tries to look at it but the eyes go back to the glare,
the yellow.
(Dylan Everett)
System - can take care of itself.
By chance...as it happens...luck would
have it.
Violence...lineup the usual suspects
- shoot the fucking lot.
(John Barbour, catalogue essay)
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